


Alpha Rats Nest

by galoots



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics)
Genre: Depression, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 11:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18093578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galoots/pseuds/galoots
Summary: Oh sing sing sing,For the dying of the daySing for the flames that will rip through hereAnd the smoke that will carry us awayYeah sing for the damage we’ve doneAnd the worse things that we’ll doOpen your mouth and sing for me nowAnd I will sing for you





	Alpha Rats Nest

**Author's Note:**

> Title and Summary from The Mountain Goat's song Alpha Rats Nest

           The song’s outro was replaced with the soft, warm sound of the stylus scratching on vinyl. Side B ended with an audible click as the record player automatically lifted the tone arm from the pressed black disc. Donald weighed his options: the effort it would take to heave himself off his cramped twin size bed vs. the gain of a fourth consecutive play of the same album. He rolled off his bed and onto the floor with a dull thump.

            “Ow.”

            Ok, now get up. It’s not that hard, you lazy piece of shit. How will you pass tomorrow’s midterm if you can’t even manage to get off the floor? He was going to fail that exam. He knew it. Even if could muster the energy to get out of bed long enough to actually attend the corresponding class. Donald hauled himself off the floor and padded over to the desk that housed his record player.

            He flipped the record over to Side A, set it back down, and watched as it began its motorized revolutions. The title track started, soothing Donald with the familiar strums of guitar. Stacks of textbook sat, unread, along with homework, long overdue, next to Donald’s cherished record player. When had Scrooge given it to him? His 15th birthday? It had been an unexpectedly expensive and thoughtful gift from his usually stingy uncle. The gesture had touched Donald’s heart despite Scrooge’s attempts to downplay its significance. It was proof that Scrooge cared. That he was paying attention to Donald’s interests and did his best to encourage them in whatever way he could. Hot tears pricked Donald’s eyes. Don’t cry, idiot. It’ll just make you feel worse.

            College was supposed to be an adventure. Donald set out so certain he could do it, leave Duckburg and strike out on his own. Yet here he was, homesick beyond belief, tired, listless, yet unable to sleep all the same. His normally good grades had started to dip. He had made no friends and felt scared to even leave his dorm. The outside world felt oppressive like the weight of a stranger’s eyes might destroy him. The things he used to love barely held his interest anymore, and that was the worst part. Worse than the sadness, or the random crying fits, or even the panic attacks in campus bathrooms, was the mind-crushing boredom that made the hours drag on torturously. Even the thing that made him happier than anything else in the world, music, had started to feel mundane. He could feel the threads that once held him together fraying, liable to snap at any moment. Would he be able to stitch himself back together if they did? Or would he fall apart? And, if he did fall apart, who would be there to pick up the pieces of his broken self? He worried no one loved him enough to save him from himself.

            He glanced up at his calendar on the wall: Sunday. It was the day Donald had promised to call his uncle every week. Scrooge had even set aside time from his busy work schedule to make sure there wouldn’t be any interruptions, giving Donald his undivided attention. That scared Donald—his uncle knew him, knew him well—surely Scrooge would hear the defeat in his voice. That was the last thing that Donald wanted, for Scrooge to worry about him. Scrooge was important, and busier than all hell, he didn’t need to worry about someone as worthless as him.

            Sighing, Donald stopped the record.

            Home wasn’t gonna call itself.

**Author's Note:**

> HUFF. I pushed through the funky depressed mood that overtook me tonight to finish editing this. Imma publish it before I lose that momentum.  
> Donald's listening to Tallahassee by The Mountain Goats. Its my favorite record.


End file.
